


don't let her stick it to your heart so hard

by thedorkone



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/F, divorced moms au, spoiler: they still love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 14:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17489768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedorkone/pseuds/thedorkone
Summary: In retrospect, Becky thought, she really had no chance of knowing how the following week was going to turn her life upside down. Still, she mused, a little heads up would have been appreciated.-prompt: when you've been divorced for 2 years, are still actually in love & your kid is in the principal's office for fighting...





	don't let her stick it to your heart so hard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [echointhenightsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/echointhenightsky/gifts).



> for echointhenightsky, because she needs to learn to take responsibility for herself

In retrospect, Becky thought, she really had no chance of knowing how the following week was going to turn her life upside down. Still, she mused, a little heads up would have been appreciated.

-

Picture this: 

Becky Lynch, laying in her bed at 6 am, dead to the world and sleeping off a 10h shift at the gym she managed. 

Now picture this:

On her nightstand, her mobile phone lighting up, vibrating so intensely that it fell to the floor and the loud thud awoke Becky abruptly.

(text) Charlotte: _ You forgot Jaimie's uniform. (Again.) Her game starts at 3pm. Don’t be late. _

Becky let out a deep, long-suffering groan, and rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.

-

Becky was in her car, on her way to the gym, when she got the call. The high pitched voice of the secretary of her daughter’s elementary school told her that Jaimie had gotten into a fight, and the principal had requested the presence of both her parents. Which was fantastic, it was just great... Becky sighed, and told the secretary she’d be there as soon as possible. She’d have to cancel her training session with Janet, the real desperate housewife from hell who had her booked all Tuesdays afternoon, and she was so not looking forward to hearing her complain. 

Plus, she hadn’t seen Charlotte in two weeks, since Jaimie’s last baseball game, precisely. Not that Becky kept track of that sort of thing. They had been divorced for two years, clearly Becky didn’t care anymore about her stupid failed marriage and her stupid ex-wife.

She shifted gears and changed the route. Jaimie was gonna get in so much shit this time.

-

When Becky reached the school it was to the sight of Jaimie sitting on a bench outside the principal’s office, an ice-pack on her left hand and Charlotte kneeling next to her, fussing over her bloody lip. Sitting opposite to them was a boy who looked almost as tall as Becky and certainly bigger than her nine year old daughter. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and his right arm was held in a makeshift cast. From the looks of it, Jaimie had put into practical application the basic notions of self defence Becky had taught her. Good.

Hearing Becky approach, Charlotte stood up and turned towards her. She looked exactly as good as Becky remembered – not that she kept track of that, either.

Becky remembered the glare Charlotte sent in her direction too. It translated roughly to:  _ this is your fucking fault.  _

Right. It was going to be a lovely meeting.

-

“One month of suspension from school and baseball is going to be a piece of cake compared to being grounded until you’re old enough to drive,” Charlotte promised as they made their way through the school’s parking lot. She was doing her angry power walk, strutting fast in front of both Becky and Jaimie. Becky could tell she was in a mood. 

The meeting had gone as expected. The boy, Brad, was your typical schoolyard bully. The problem was he had picked on Jaimie one too many times, and Becky had taught her what to do if he tried it again to make sure it was the last time. Spoiler: he had, and he’d learnt his lesson the hard way. Bottom line, he got suspended, Jaimie risked expulsion, but Charlotte had managed to have her sentence downgraded to suspension instead. Still, Jaimie would be off the baseball team for the duration of the suspension, and that was bound to put the girl in a funk.

Once they reached their cars, Charlotte stopped. “Go wait in the car, Jaimie, your mother and I need to have a word,” she ordered, back carefully turned towards Becky. Since stepping into the Principal’s office, she hadn’t looked at Becky once, and it was driving Becky up the wall.

“Just don’t kill each other on school property.” Jaimie said, resigned, opening the car’s door and getting into the backseat. By the looks of it, her moms were getting ready for a screaming match. She sighed and took out her phone; she had Pokémon to catch anyway.

-

(Charlotte Flair was like: home, the smell of coffee drifting through the house in the mornings; uncompromising and unflinching in her quest for justice as a District Attorney; 

a fucking nightmare when crossed.)

-

Charlotte waited for the car door to click shut, shoulders tight and back stiff, like a rubber ready to snap, then she turned to Becky in a movement that held an uncanny resemblance to that of a lion turning on its cornered prey. Becky squared her shoulders and set her jaw, feeling a shiver shimmer down her spine in anticipation. Charlotte always did know how to bring out the fire in her, she’d give her that. For better and for worse. 

“Exactly what made you think it was acceptable to teach a nine year old to punch first and ask questions later?” Charlotte demanded with barely controlled fury, mouthing each word like she was chastising a child.

Becky scoffed and crossed her arms in front of her. “That’s not what-- She needs to be able to defend herself!”

“She’s nine! She needs to go to school and not be expelled!”

“So what? You’re just gonna let that bully walk all over her?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Of course not, but there has to be some middle ground.”

“Not when you’re nine.”

“Especially when you’re nine!” Charlotte exclaimed before taking a breath, pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and index. “This cannot keep happening, my daughter will not be marked down as a violent bully.” She raised her eyes to Becky again. “I had to make a donation to the school to keep her from getting suspended.”

“Terrific, that is just--” Historically, one of the things that always managed to get to Becky’s nerves was Charlotte’s ability and willingness to throw her money around. “You’re really living up to the Flair name, you know? Buying Jaimie’s way through life. Your daddy would be proud.”

Charlotte’s eyes flashed, and she took a step forward. “Leave him out of this,” she threatened, her voice low and dangerous. 

“Why? With the way he got between us, it’s only fair to make him part of the conversation!”

“Not this again,” Charlotte groaned, rolling her eyes.

(Things Ric Flair was:

  * A smart, successful businessman;
  * A loving father and grandfather;
  * A dick.



Things Ric Flair  _ wasn’t _ :

  * Afraid of speaking his mind;
  * A fan of Becky’s personal choices;
  * Alive.



It was still a sore spot, for both of them. Ric Flair was an important man, with an important ego. He demanded nothing but the best, for himself and, especially, for his daughter. He didn’t think Becky fit into that category, and he never missed a chance to let her know exactly that. She’d never forgiven him for getting between them, nor Charlotte for letting him. 

He was an asshole and a bully, and Becky would have liked to think that the world was better off without him, but his death had only cemented the conflict, and his presence had stayed a ghost between them. 

Somehow, Ric had managed to stay a pain in Becky’s ass even after death. Imagine that.)

“I don’t want my kid to grow into a spoiled brat who can’t take care of her own problems without running to mummy and her stack of cash.”

“Right, because punching your problems in the face is  _ such _ a healthy way of dealing with them!” Charlotte countered, and cut off Becky’s reply with a raised hand. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, I’m the one who took care of it. Like always.”

Becky raised her eyebrows, affronted. “You took care of it exactly like you always do, by throwing money at the problems until they go away. If you actually took the time to talk to Jaimie--”

“But that’s all you do!” Charlotte exclaimed, and let out a harsh laugh, her hand mockingly mimicking a talking mouth. “Talk, talk, talk! It’s all you do!”

Becky growled, advancing on Charlotte and pointing a finger towards her face. “You wanna hear me talk?”

“Hey,” Jaimie interrupted them, rolling down the car window. They both turned their attention to her.  “Can we go? I’m hungry and my lip stings.” 

Becky took one look at her daughter’s miserable expression and it was enough to make her back off. “Yeah, sure lass,“ she cleared her throat and stepped away from Charlotte. She had this way of getting under Becky’s skin without even trying. One look from Charlotte, and Becky’s automatic response was to jump down her throat.

“Are you coming over for dinner?” Jaimie asked, her tone hopeful as she shifted her gaze from one woman to the other. Becky turned towards Charlotte, meeting her gaze head on. It wasn’t her turn with Jaimie yet, so it really was up to Charlotte. The thought of going back to what used to be their apartment never sat easy in the pit of Becky’s stomach, but sooner or later everybody needed to face their demons. Charlotte looked away and nodded softly. 

“You bet I am,” Becky answered, and started walking to her own car. She risked a glance towards Charlotte, who was opening her own car door, and added, “Someone’s gotta show you how to punch without bruising your knuckles bloody.”

The dirty look Charlotte threw her over the top of the car alone made it worth it.

-

The drive to Charlotte’s place was short, so she had stopped to pick up some ice cream on the way.  Becky stood nervously in front of the door of the place she used to call home. She glanced at the nametag under the doorbell. Her name had been removed, leaving only  _ Charlotte Flair,  _ written in that obnoxious italic font Becky had vetoed when they were picking it together.

“Ugh,” Becky grunted, lips curled in disgust. It seemed like everything about Charlotte irritated her nowadays. Her perfectly styled eyebrows, the way she’d do her hair, her over-the-top sense of style and general sense of self. How her perfume seemed to linger hours after she’d left. How, after two years of being away from her, Becky still couldn’t seem to forget to miss her.

The trivial sort of things, really.

She rolled her eyes at herself for getting worked up. They weren’t even in the same room, for fuck’s sake. She shook her head at herself and pressed the doorbell roughly, ringing it multiple times until the door was opened by a disgruntled and barefoot Jaimie, donning a glare worthy of both of her mothers.

“Doorbell works just fine, you know?” Jaimie grumbled, stepping aside to let her in. 

“Just checking, to make sure,” Becky replied, amused, and made her way into the apartment.

Everything inside was exactly as she remembered; it was like being body-slammed two years in the past, with one teeny tiny difference: every trace of Becky ever being there had been erased. Every picture, object and testimony of her existence in the confines of the apartment had been removed. The whole apartment had been sanitized of her presence. Even the big family picture with Charlotte and Becky standing behind Jaimie at her fifth birthday that once had hung on the wall by the entrance had now been replaced by a (somehow even bigger) picture of Jaimie with Charlotte’s family, Ric Flair’s overbearing presence hovering over Charlotte’s seated figure in the picture and taking up three quarters of the frame.

“Okay,” Becky muttered to herself. “That’s definitely a thing.” 

“Took you long enough,” Charlotte’s voice came from the functional open space that worked both as kitchen and dining room. She had already set the table for three, had even had the time to get changed into house clothes  _ and _ style her hair into a soft looking side braid that hung over her shoulder. Of course, Becky loathed how pretty and put-together it made her look. 

“I stopped on the way to get dessert,” Becky explained, lifting the bag of ice-cream she was holding as proof. 

Charlotte smiled an overly sweet yet polite smile and took the bag Becky handed her, “Cute, but unnecessary, since Jaimie won’t be allowed to eat junk food ever again.” She shot Jaimie a pointed look, who groaned into oblivion.

“What was I supposed to do? He came at me! He’s 13, he was going to obliterate me!” Jaimie justified, arms stretched out with her palms forward.

“You broke his wrist!” Charlotte countered, and Becky realized she might have arrived mid-argument. 

“And his pride,” Becky commented from the side, trying not to sound too proud.

“Not helping,” Charlotte admonished, pointing her finger in Becky’s direction first, and then back to Jaimie. “What he did was wrong,” Charlotte began, “he shouldn’t have attacked you, and believe me when I say that his parents  _ will _ hear from me,” she added, her tone deliberately gentle and peaceful in the sort of way that left Becky absolutely no doubt his parents were in for a trip. “But,” Charlotte continued, stepping closer to the girl and resting her hands on her shoulders, “violence cannot be the answer.”

“But why do I have to be punished?” Jaimie cried out, shrugging Charlotte’s hands off her shoulders. “Whatever, I’m not hungry anymore,” she concluded, and stormed out of the room.

Dramatic. “She certainly takes that from you,” Becky said, wincing when she heard Jaimie slamming her bedroom door. 

Charlotte’s glare was burning the side of her face. “Don’t you start,” Charlotte warned, moving to the freezer to put away the ice cream. “We should present a unified front, your approval is encouraging her. You act like you don’t understand why she needs to be punished!”

“Because I don’t. She was just defending herself.”

“She still needs to learn that her actions have consequences.” Charlotte turned to Becky and leaned back on the kitchen counter. She was so at ease in a place that made Becky’s skin crawl, and Becky wanted to strangle her.

“Rich coming from who just paid off her suspension,” Becky pointed out because she was nothing if not confrontational, and feeling uncomfortable in a space where she used to feel safe really didn’t help.

“The consequences will be proportional to her actions,” Charlotte countered in a dismissive tone.

“Typical.” Becky rolled her eyes. “Even your tough love has double standards.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Charlotte challenged, arms crossed in front of her and eyes narrowed. Becky knew that starting this now would mean things would get very ugly very fast and her very dramatic daughter was the most important issue at the moment. 

So she let out a controlled breath and forced herself to back off. “I didn’t come here to fight.”

“That would be a first,” Charlotte added, biting.

“Forget it. I’ll go check on Jaimie.”

-

(When Jaimie was five, she broke her leg climbing down a tree. It was the most terrifying moment of Becky’s life, realizing she couldn’t take her daughter’s pain away. 

The second was seeing the heartbreak on Charlotte’s face when she realized the same.)

-

Becky made her way through the apartment, across the hall that led to the sleeping area. She may or may not have sped up when passing in front of what used to be her old bedroom, though no witnesses were there to confirm or deny such behaviour, until she reached Jaimie’s. 

When she knocked on the door, the only response was an unintelligible muffled grunt, which she took as permission to come in. Jaimie was laying facedown on the bed, arms and legs thrown out like a starfish. 

“Mhnh mmhhn,” Jaimie spoke directly into her  _ Star Wars _ bedspread.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Becky joked, entering the room and sitting at the foot of the bed. 

Jaimie groaned and pulled herself up to her elbows. “I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” she added, before letting herself fall and slamming face first onto the bed again. 

Becky smiled, amused. For a nine-year-old, Jaimie had certainly developed a flare for the dramatic worthy of her mother’s side of the family. “That’s fine, you just have to listen. Today was a very intense day, a lot of things happened. It’s okay to be upset. And it’s okay if you’re feeling lots of feelings.”

Jaimie kept quiet, Becky watched her back rise and fall as she breathed heavily into the pillow. Then, slowly, she turned her head to the side and met Becky’s gaze.

“I was only trying to defend myself.”

“I understand that, it’s what I taught you, you did what you had to do. But now that you know how to defend yourself, you have to learn where the limit between defending yourself and hurting other people lies.”

Jaimie was silent, still, her brows scrunched up in a stubborn little frown. As much as Becky liked to blame Jaimie’s melodramatic side on Charlotte, she had to recognize, begrudgingly, that the kid was as pigheaded as she herself was.

There was no mistake, Jaimie was certainly her kid. So this called for a different, less confrontational approach.

“Do you remember what it felt like when you broke your leg?” Becky tried, reaching out and smoothing Jaimie’s unruly hair back.

Jaimie looked up at Becky tentatively. She nodded. “It hurt so bad.”

Becky nodded as well. “Mhm, it hurt really bad, didn’t it?” 

Jaimie nodded again, and then she sat up, crawling closer to Becky. She kept silent for a bit, and Becky let her, giving her the time she needed to process. Finally, Jaimie looked at her, chin up and pout ready, with the look of somebody who’d made a decision.

“I think I understand why I’m grounded even though I was only defending myself from that ogre.”

Becky fought back a smile and motioned for Jaimie to keep going. “And why is that?”

“Even though I wasn’t the one to pick a fight, I hurt Brad really bad, and that’s not okay.”

Becky reached out again, her hand rubbing soothing circles across Jaimie’s back. “You’re a smart girl, aren’t you?”

Jaimie shrugged a little self consciously. “I’m sorry, mum.”

“It’s alright, lass. Listen, there’s always going to be someone who tries to put you down. You just have to keep getting back up.”

Jaimie nodded, throwing herself into Becky for a fierce, kid sized, bone-crushing hug. Becky laughed, hugging her back.

“How about we go have dinner and see if we can convince your mother to start her junk food ban tomorrow?”

-

The dinner was a peaceful affair, nice in a way Becky wasn’t expecting. She and Charlotte had spent so much of the last few years being angry at each other that she had forgotten how proud it used to make her feel, spending time with Jaimie and Charlotte and having that feeling of belonging blossom warm in her heart. 

Now that she had understood why she was grounded, Jaimie was a much more pleasant company to keep at the table. It also helped that both Charlotte and Becky managed to spend a couple hours without purposely trying to antagonize each other. So this was new. Still, all good things must come to an end.

“Jaimie, it’s time for bed.”

“Aw, but mum is here!” Jaimie turned to Becky, big puppy eyes ready to be weaponized, but Becky just shook her head.

“Bedtime, kid. You’re already grounded, don’t push your luck.”

“Fine,” Jaimie pouted, and walked over to hug Charlotte first and Becky second. She lingered, squeezing as hard as a nine-year-old could, and Becky laughed, kissing the top of her head.

“See you tomorrow lass. Good night.” 

“Night, moms.” Jaimie dragged her feet all the way to her bedroom.

-

Helping Charlotte clear the table and take care of the dishes was... painfully domestic. They worked silently, side by side, Charlotte rinsing and Becky drying the dishes she was handed. 

“Tonight was nice,” Becky offered casually, chancing a glance at Charlotte’s face and studying her. 

“Mhm,” was the response. Charlotte kept her eyes fixed on the task at hand, her expression thoughtful.

“We managed to be civil, even,” Becky continued, putting down the rag now that all the dishes had been dried. “Well, mostly.”

“Right,” was Charlotte’s elaborate response.

“You’re awfully chatty tonight,” Becky observed sardonically.

“I was just… thinking.”

“About what?”

She didn’t get a reply. What Becky got was a distraction, Charlotte busying herself to buy time. She opened the cupboard to take out a bottle of red wine, and Becky raised her eyebrows. “Taking out the heavy guns, I see.”

“Mama needs to relax,” Charlotte announced, holding her gaze to stop any protest.

“Wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”

Charlotte stuck out her tongue at Becky and proceeded to pop the cork off the bottle, pouring the wine into two glasses, the liquid a deep and rich colour. She took one for herself, and offered Becky the other. Becky hesitated; historically, wine and good decisions didn’t mix well. Specifically, with Charlotte involved, wine had always been a spectacularly bad idea, which Charlotte knew damn well if the look in her eyes was any indication. Becky briefly wondered what game she was playing. Still, never to be one to back down from a challenge, she accepted the glass. 

Satisfied, Charlotte lifted hers for a cheer, and Becky mimicked the gesture.

“What exactly are we toasting to?”

“You don’t always need a reason to enjoy a good glass of wine.”

“You know I’m more of a beer kind of gal.”

“I recall,” Charlotte said, fond despite herself and catching Becky off guard. She took a sip and watched as Charlotte propped herself up on the counter. The wine was good, Charlotte’s taste impeccable as always. It made Becky feel warm and sated and took her off the edge she’d spent the whole evening.

“I talked to Jaimie,” she started, clearing her throat. 

Charlotte nodded in acknowledgement. “Do you think I was too hard on her?”

“She’s a smart little one, she’ll be alright,” Becky reassured her, a soft smile pulling at her lips. “We did a pretty good job with her, didn’t we?”

“She’s great. Despite our best efforts, one might say.”

“Rude,” Becky protested, poking Charlotte in the leg. Charlotte grinned, then hid her smile behind her glass and took another sip, and a kill bill siren went off inside Becky’s head.

This was dangerous territory, Becky reminded herself. This easy companionship was one of the things Becky had absolutely not allowed herself to miss. Charlotte’s light teasing and her sharp tongue, and the way it never failed to make Becky feel alive. Maybe it was the wine, or the day she’d had finally catching up with her, but Becky was feeling herself slip, looking at Charlotte in a way she hadn’t in years.

“How did we get here?” Charlotte asked, her tone serious once again.

“What do you mean?”

Charlotte shrugged, eyes fixed on the wine in her hand, and something vulnerable in the way her fingers played with the rim of her glass.

Becky was silent, her eyes shifting from Charlotte to the portrait at the entrance she could clearly see from where she stood, leaning with her back against the sink. “He didn’t think I was good enough for you,” she stated quietly, eyes fixed on Ric’s sharp smile. “Perhaps I believed him,” she confessed, voice heavy with a bitter feeling that felt close to regret. “And so did you.”

She could feel Charlotte’s eyes on her face, but she refused to meet her gaze, choosing instead to steadily avoid it until Charlotte looked away. This was not how this night was supposed to go. Becky hadn’t come here to bare her soul and lay her shame out in the open.

From the portrait, Ric Flair was judging her silently.  _ Weak _ , said his smile.  _ Pathetic _ , spelled in the crinkles around his eyes. He wasn’t there anymore, Becky reminded herself hastily. He was a ghost, and the only power he had was the power she gave him. A quiet voice inside her head told her she’d known this for a while, but hiding behind this excuse was easier than facing the truth: she hadn’t fought hard enough for her family, and now she was afraid it might be too late.

Still, she couldn’t blame it all on Ric. She and Charlotte had both had their parts to play. Somewhere along the way, love became a bloodsport for both of them, until they were so busy with recriminations that they lost sight of what really mattered. 

“I didn’t,” Charlotte said, softly, part promise and part confession. “I never believed him.” 

Romance never goes unpunished, after all.

-

The rest of the week was remarkably uneventful for Becky. Her gym was packed full as it always was on the weekend, and still, there was no way she wouldn’t recognize Charlotte’s impeccably styled workout ponytail (or the curve of her arse), which was exactly the sight that welcomed her from one of the deadlift stations in front of the mirrors. Becky furrowed her eyebrows. She knew for a fact that Charlotte didn’t avoid this specific gym just because Becky managed it, but because it was also very far from both Charlotte’s house and her workplace. Which made her presence here suspicious at the very least, and certainly no coincidence.

And yet there was no mistaking her, there she was, Charlotte Flair, flexing in all her glory. Now, Becky was a lot of things, but blind was never one of them. Weak, certainly, Becky thought, as she observed Charlotte deadlifting a 80 kg barbell. And gay. Profoundly and completely gay, she concluded, examining the way Charlotte’s muscles rippled under the strain when she dropped the weight.

Charlotte must have felt Becky’s gaze on her, because on her next lift, she met Becky’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror. A slow smirk stretched on Charlotte’s lips before she looked down and dropped the barbell again.

Becky found herself reluctantly intrigued by the display. Not because it was an unattractive view, far from it, in fact. But after the dinner at Charlotte’s place, something had shifted and settled inside her, and between them. Becky could feel it clearly, and if Charlotte’s presence at the gym was any indication, so could she.

Unfortunately, Charlotte’s stellar performance hadn’t caught just Becky’s attention. Out of the corner of her eye, Becky saw her esteemed colleague and fellow gym trainer Chad zeroing in on Charlotte, making a beeline for her and moving from across the room with such graceful and fluid movements to sidestep the obstacles in his way you’d think he’d turn into the fucking slithering snake he actually was. He reached Charlotte and Becky watched, with absolute calm, mind you, and no strong feelings about it at all, as he put his greasy little hand on Charlotte’s back, shot her what he undoubtedly thought was his best, most charming smile, and opened his mouth for some cheesy opening line about her  _ perfect form  _ or something as equally as ridiculous. 

Now, Becky wasn’t a jealous person, and the fact that she could lay no claims on Charlotte whatsoever didn’t escape her. And yet, as she watched Chad put on his best puffle and ruffle routine, she couldn’t fight down the urge to smash a dumbell on his dumb face. The last straw was Charlotte meeting her eyes in the mirror and smirking purposely at Becky as Chad got behind her, put his hands on both her hips, and assisted her movement as she bent down to retrieve the barbell. 

That was  _ it _ . Jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, Becky made her way to the pair.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, startling Chad, who jumped back in alarm. “Because I  _ know _ you're not hitting on my ex-wife,” she continued, staring him down. And sleazy as Chad may be, he was no idiot, so he immediately dropped his hold on Charlotte’s hips.

“I was-- She needed… Some pointers on her technique.” 

“And you just happen to have a very hands on teaching approach.”

“Are you done marking your territory or are you going to pee on me next?” Charlotte interrupted, giving Chad the diversion he needed to make himself scarce before Becky decided she wasn’t done with him. “You do realize I’m not your possession, right?”

“I know that! Still, this is his workplace, he shouldn’t hit on clients.” Becky justified with a totally acceptable rationale. “Also, I’m his boss!” she added as an afterthought.

“You picked me up while working as my personal trainer,” came Charlotte’s unimpressed reply.

“Do you want me to go get Chad back? Because I will do that for you, I’ll get Chad back.”

“So you can hit on women at work but he can’t?” Charlotte challenged.

“Why do you even care about Chad?” Becky asked, mildly exasperated.

“This isn’t about Chad! It’s about you not admitting you were jealous of him.” She took a step towards Becky, right into her personal space. Becky swallowed hard. “Admit it.”

“I… just didn’t think it was an acceptable behaviour.” Becky concluded, her eyes shifting to Charlotte’s lips for an instant. “What are you even doing here?”

“You’re changing the subject. I had some free time and thought I’d work in some training.”

“I’m not changing the subject. Your office is on the other side of the city,” Becky pointed out, tilting her head and considering Charlotte. Out of the hundreds of gyms in the city, she had driven the 30 extra minutes Becky knew she’d need to get from her office to this specific gym. The gym Becky owned and managed and where she spent 60% of her time. Then it hit her.

“Wait, are you here to see me?” she asked, and the way Charlotte was very deliberately avoiding her eyes was enough of a confirmation. “You are, oh my God,” Becky wondered out loud.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, but Becky could see the faint blush coloring her cheeks. “So what if I am? At least I’m not too much of a coward to admit what I’m feeling.”

“Hey!” Becky protested, hitting Charlotte’s shoulder playfully. But then she smirked. “So you really are here to see me.”

“I really am here to see you.”

“And what does this mean?”

“I… don’t know.” Charlotte admitted. “I just know I woke up and I really felt like seeing you.” It sounded like more of a confession than it should have, and Becky felt a coil low in her stomach as a reply.

“So you hopped on the car and drove here. Just like that.” Becky teased.

“Mhm, just like that.”

“Wow, your courage and bravery really blow me away.”

“Would you stop making fun of me? I’m gonna go look for Chad.” Charlotte started walking away, but Becky grabbed a hold of her wrist and stopped her.

“No, wait. I’ll stop being an asshole,” she promised, pulling Charlotte back by her wrist until they were standing closer than before. 

“That’ll be the day,” Charlotte replied without missing a beat, a smirk on her lips and a fond look in her eyes, and in that very moment, Becky knew with absolute certainty that she would be willing to do anything if it meant getting her family back. 

“I think you got here in perfect time for my break,” Becky said, checking out her imaginary wrist watch.

“Well, that’s a fortunate coincidence.”

“I’m a fortunate gal.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet you drove all the way here to see me!”

“And I’m already starting to regret it,” Charlotte added, rolling her eyes but fighting a smile. 

Becky smirked and let go of Charlotte’s wrist to hold her hand instead, her fingers slipping between hers. Charlotte’s eye followed the movement, and she squeezed Becky’s hand softly. 

“You know, there’s an easy fix for that,” Charlotte said.

“And what would that be?” Becky asked, amused.

“I think you should shut up,” Charlotte pointed out.

“And I think you should make me,” Becky retorted, cheeky.

Charlotte shook her head in exasperation and used her free hand to grab a hold of Becky’s chin, firm but gentle as she closed the distance and kissed the smug smile off her lips.

-

(Kissing Charlotte again was:

exactly what Becky had imagined, warm, familiar, like second chances, like coming home; 

like nothing Becky had imagined, terrifying, exhilarating, standing in the middle of a gym surrounded by burly and sweaty crossfitters.)

-

In retrospect, Becky reflected, she really had no chance of knowing how her life was going to be turned upside down. And yes, she mused, a little heads up would have been appreciated. 

But then again, she realized, as Charlotte kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, eyes bright and smile as warm as the feeling blossoming in Becky’s heart, she never really stood a chance at all.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my main babes nirky and fullyajar for being the best betas and listening to me rant even tho they don't know a single thing not a one thing about wrestling
> 
>  
> 
> title from Just Another Girl - The Killers


End file.
